Home
by in.your.embrace.x
Summary: On the 5th of August, James and Lily Potter's prays are answered. Harry must now deal with living in a world very different from his own. HG, AU.
1. When Wishes Come True

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any part of HP, as much as I'd love to, but the plot's all mine. So if you know it, you know who's it is.

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**Home**

"_You live your life with people who hate you, who are in awe of you and the few who actually love you . . . why is it that you never feel at home?"_

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**Harry Potter Fan Fiction **

On the 5th of August, James and Lily Potter's prays are answered. Harry must now deal with living in a world very different from his own. HG, AU.

* * *

**Chapter One: When Wishes Come True**

"_You will not take him from me! I won't allow you to!"_

_A mother. Red hair. A lioness. _

"_Stand aside, silly girl, stand aside!"_

_A monster. A wand. Cruel laughter._

"_Have mercy, please, have mercy!"_

"_Move! _Expello!"

_A scream._

_Heavy silence._

"_And so, little Harry Potter, here you are. Unprotected."_

_Bright green eyes. Blood red ones._

"_And here you end . . . _avada kedavra!"

"NO!"

Lily sat up straight, the satin sheets around her twisting uncomfortably. She took a few deep breaths before leaning back into the numerous, soft pillows, wiping the sweat off of her face.

"Lily? Honey?"

She turned to face her bleary-eyed husband, who rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He moved from his side of the bed and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her to his chest, as she shook visibly. The words of the nightmare still ran through her mind.

It was not, however, a nightmare. It was a memory.

She calmed down, her breathing becoming even. "It was the same as always," she whispered.

His grip tightened. "I never stop wishing I was there."

"I never stop wishing that he was here." She paused, her eyes far away. "I never stop wishing that no matter what kind of person he was or what he looked like or if he was an evil monster . . . I don't care. I just want to see him. My baby."

"My son."

Their wish was sealed and considered. It was on this day that everything would change.

The date was the fifth of August.

X

Lily Potter walked through the halls of Hogwarts, her husband, James, at her side. Of course, no one wanting to face the wrath of her guards would call her Mrs Potter, or god forbid, Lily, unless they were close enough. She could name those people on one hand: James, Sirius, Remus and Petunia. Her three children called her mum and her nephew called her Aunt Lily, which wasn't the same.

It wasn't that she didn't want to be called by her name, it was just that it was improper. After all, the Queen of the British Magical Kingdom should be called nothing less than your Grace or your Majesty or your Highness or something along those lines. It was lucky, she thought, that only those of the magical bloodline were ever given royal titles; King, Queen, Prince, Princess and Duke or Duchess for the siblings of the King.

Lily knew a lot about the Order of the Phoenix—well, she knew everything there was available. Of all the statements made to her about it, the reports on the group and such, only a little was truly needed. It was headed by Albus Dumbledore and fought Voldemort. _Voila._

Any group that fought against the terror that was Voldemort was worthy, she thought, but Dumbledore . . . she couldn't stand him. It was his fault her baby was dead, however indirectly. He told them not to leave the country, he said that he'd make sure her son was safe.

Her son was dead.

Taking her seat in the centre of the room; James at her side as always, their hands joined tightly; the guards stood to attention at the sides of the room; the Order members stood until they were properly seated; the meeting began.

She only half-listened to the information, her thoughts drifting back to the memory repeated in her dreams only the night before. The memory she tried so hard to forget. The death of her baby boy.

She wasn't childless, however. Alex and Annalie were both going to be sixth-years and Chloe had just finished her first-year, but nothing could replace the hole that would only be filled by the miracle of her baby coming back to her. Even Alex, who was in line for the throne, didn't want to take it up because he knew it was rightfully his brother's. That was her fault, hers and James, she knew, for reminding him unconsciously that Harry was their first born who should have been heir to the throne.

When they left the meeting, allowing Dumbledore to continue with it though they'd check up from time to time, Lily took James' hand and pulled him to the side.

"Let's go to the kitchens," she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. "What? Lily, if you're hungry, we've got House Elves at home."

"I don't want to go home," she whispered. Home was where he'd died.

Sighing, James pulled her into a hug. "Okay," he agreed. He must have known the dream was still on her mind. He told the guards where they were going and they followed them to the kitchens.

"I think Chloe would've loved him," continued Lily, as they sipped the butterbeer. She hadn't had one in so long. "And Alex and Annalie . . . they would've got along perfectly."

James snorted.

"What?"

"Oh come on, Lils," he said, grinning. "They're siblings—they would've fought like crazy."

"No they would not--"

"But moving on," he interrupted. "I think he would've been great at Quidditch."

She scowled. "Oh, really? Not a chance. Another sport-obsessed male in the house, no way. Your daughter is enough."

"Our daughter, Miss-If-She's-Trouble-She's-Yours-But-If-She's-An-Angel-She's-Mine." He took her deep breath as Lily laughed. "Anyway, did you just call Annalie a boy?"

"You know what I meant, James."

"Ah, but will she know that, hmm?"

"James--"

"_Let me through! I have important news, let me through!"_

"Let her through, Gare," ordered Lily, watching as the teenager walked in and immediately curtsied.

"Your Highnesses," she said. "Professor Dumbledore says you need to come to the Hospital Wing without delay!"

Her thoughts still full of Harry and her baby death, Lily stood up and took James hand as they walked quickly to the Hospital Wing. Upon arriving, she saw the messy, short, black hair of a boy with his eyes closed.

"Alex," she whimpered. James' hand tightened around hers and she tried to sprint to his bedside. "Oh my ba—_by_ . . ." she trailed off. This wasn't Alex. He was fifteen, not at least twenty as the man in front of her was.

"Did Alex take an ageing potion or something?" she asked the resident nurse, Madam Pomfrey.

But even as she said that, she knew it wasn't Alex. Alex had more of her features than James', but this stranger was the opposite. "Why is he hurt?" she asked instead.

"Who is he?" asked James, drawing her towards him. Subtly, the guards moved around them in a formation unknown to her, wands pointed at the unconscious boy.

"I am afraid I do not know, your Grace," said Dumbledore easily. "He appeared, without warning, on the grounds."

Hands around wands tightened and the guards looked ready to strike at a moment's notice. Instinctively, Lily left James' side despite protests and moved towards the bed.

"Lily, what are you doing?! He could be dangerous!"

She took a seat on the hospital bed, staring at his wounds. It made her want to cry for some reason she couldn't explain. She knew him. She didn't know how but she _knew_ this boy. It was definitely a boy, not a man, she realised. Now she could see that in sleep, he looked almost peaceful—the weather-worn look he had just made him look older.

"We should let Poppy take care of him, James," she said softly.

James stared at her. "This could be a Death Eater, Lils! This could be someone who's here to hurt our children—to hurt Alex and Annalie and Chloe! And you--"

"I don't think he is."

"--want him to have medical . . . wait, what?"

Lily was gazing at the boy, fighting the urge to pull him towards her. She knew if she touched him the guards would act, they would take him away. He could be a potential risk, James would say. But she _knew_.

"Look at him, James," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Really look at him."

And he did. Her husband, father of her three—no, _four_ children, looked at the boy. He drank in his facial features, his expressions, his positioning and suddenly . . . he knew too.

"Sweet Merlin," he murmured. "Gare, get Phyliss Coolgate here."

"Your Grace," interrupted Dumbledore, "we have our own potions master here. If you want Veritaserum--"

"Now," James instructed.

"Of course, your Highness," replied Gare and with a look, one of the guards scurried off.

James moved silently towards the bed. A guard moved a chair next to the bed at another look from Gare—their personal guard who could almost read James and Lily's minds, though not literally—and he sat down in it.

Lily reached for his hand, needing the comfort.

"May I ask what is going on?" said Dumbledore, looking slightly puzzled.

But that could all be for show, Lily reflected. She knew of Dumbledore's manipulative games and didn't want him here for this. Glaring into space, she spoke sharply. "I think it best you leave, Dumbledore."

She heard him sigh and her hand tightened around James'. She noticed the pressure came from both ways.

"Your Grace, I think that someone with my expertise is needed here."

She could almost see his grandfatherly expression, see the twinkle in his eyes . . . Her glare became murderous. Luckily, James spoke before she said something she regretted.

"My wife—the Queen—asked you to leave," said James, his voice like ice. "Gare, please show the Headmaster to the door. Also, can you ask for Nicholas to come here from the palace? I think _his_ expertise is needed here."

Abruptly, Lily felt incredibly selfish. This was not just about her; it affected James just as much. For the first time, she pulled her gaze away from the boy—she didn't want to name him in case all of this was just dream that would never come true—and her eyes met his. Loving eyes of the one she married, the one she loved.

He put his arms around her. She breathed him in.

Dumbledore left reluctantly but the glares of the guards was enough to send him away. Lily heard him sigh once again and just as he reached the door, he declared, "I do think you are making a mistake, my dears." Both Lily and James looked up in shock and the wands pointed at the boy moved towards the Headmaster. "I have knowledge you could find useful . . . and some mistakes can be—what is the word?—ah, _fatal_."

For a moment, the only thing that reigned was silence. But for just a moment.

James jumped up. "HOW DARE YOU! How bloody _dare_ you say that to us!" he screamed, enraged.

"I said nothing, mis--" he paused, obviously thinking better of it, "your Grace."

"Get out, Dumbledore!" hissed Lily. "You lost me my son almost eighteen years ago. I will do everything in my power to make sure you stay away from him."

There. She said it aloud. She implied he was alive, and from the intake of breath from James, she knew he had realised it too. The look in Dumbledore's eyes let her know he'd known all along; he'd only wanted her to admit it.

"Why, your Majesty," he said, sounding surprised but looking amused. "I do believe you insinuated that your son--"

"OUT!" bellowed James. One of the guards pushed Dumbledore from the room but before he shut the door, it opened to reveal two guards and their charges.

"Your Highness," said Gare unnecessarily, "Miss Coolgate and Mr Flamel have arrived"

"Miss Coolgate, we need some Veritaserum at once," ordered Lily, glancing at James and seeing he was still red with anger. "Nicholas, come closer and look at him."

He did and gasped. "My word, your Grace . . ."

Her eyes filled with tears. It wasn't just the imagination of two desperate parents wanting back their baby boy. Others could see it too.

"Is it possible?" she questioned quietly. "Is it really possible, Nicholas?"

Nicholas' face was pensive. "In all my years of study, I have read of only one case like this." She looked up. "It is possible that he has slipped through the wall that separates dimensions."

"Dimensions?" asked James.

"Yes," said Nicholas, nodding once. "There are theories, never proven but widely believed, that there are thousands, millions even, of parallel dimensions. I won't bore with an explanation but it is also thought, though again, never truly proven, that there are portals or entrances into other dimensions. It is possible that he slipped through one."

"Possible," echoed Lily.

"Again, there is no proof." He paused. "If I might suggest something?"

"Of course," Lily said, motioning to continue.

"Veritaserum may be passed with new technology; it is not certain but possible. There is a blood ritual which cannot be fooled nor tricked for it would be death to do so. It comes from the Goblins and would give the true identity of the . . . er, boy here," he posed.

"What does it include?" asked James, his expression unreadable. She felt the same. Blood rituals, especially Goblin ones, could get messy—literally.

"A special ritual knife would cut five important points and collect a vial of blood from each. The forehead, where our magical core is; each pulse, where we feel the beat of our heart above the surface; the left shoulder blade, a magical creatures' universal point of respect and honour when touched by the right hand, and the right ankle, for reasons unknown," Nicholas finished.

"I apologise to interrupt, your Majesties," ventured Miss Coolgate, "but I have the Veritaserum."

"Put three drops on his tongue," instructed James, grabbing again Lily's hand as they watched the drops fall. With a slightly shaky hand, he raised his wand and whispered, "_Ennervate._"

His eyes opened. The room erupted with gasps. He had her eyes, Lily saw, just like the baby she'd lost. It was like looking into the mirror. A deep, shining emerald, albeit unfocused, looked up at her. She couldn't speak.

Nicholas seemed to realise this and asked firmly, "What is your name?"

Breaths were held.

"Harry Potter."

Silence. Lily didn't move to wipe the tears that were falling onto her cheeks.

"How did you get here?" continued Nicholas, his voice slightly croaky in surprise.

"I fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries."

"A portal . . ." murmured Nicholas before turning to Lily and James. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "but I have to ask. Are you a Death Eater?"

"No."

Relief, though not so much since Lily didn't believe that her baby would side with that monster. Not even in another dimension.

"Do you support Voldemort in any way?"

"No."

"How did you injure yourself like this?" whispered James, his voice pained. Lily felt the same way. This was their son and he was responding.

"Death Eaters decided to avenge their _master_." Even in monotone, there was venom when he said the word master. "I managed to escape capture after three days."

It was then that she noticed the extent of his wounds; one on his chest was bleeding rather heavily and slipping through the black, battle robes; his arm looked half-mangled; his voice was raspy. And the robes, she knew, hid the rest of his injuries . . . how many were there?

"Nicholas, the ritual," said James hurriedly. "He needs medical attention and quickly."

Nicholas took a ritual knife from his pocket and five vials. "I came prepared," he said. He cut his right ankle first, next his shoulder, then both wrists and finally his forehead, filling the vials with blood. Lily felt sick at the sight of so much of her baby's blood. How much was already spilled?

A gold basin appeared on the bedside table and Nicholas poured the vials in, chanting something quietly. Colours appeared to swirl above it and there were a few flashes of light. He dipped a quill into the basin and set it onto a sheet of parchment. After a moment, it began to write a name in blood.

_Harry James Potter_

It was him. It was well and truly him. Wanting to embrace him, she immediately turned to Poppy—under a vow of patient confidentiality—and said, "Heal him. Please."

X

Lily sat by the bed, legs underneath her, like she used to sit while waiting for James to come home. She wasn't allowed to be an Auror and she got some sweet satisfaction from the fact that he wasn't either. But no, James would leave with the royal military, like the Aurors though a step up, in fact, and sometimes get back late. And Lily would sit in the lounge in the same position until he arrived back from whatever raid or battle and then make sure that he got the medical attention he needed—men were so stubborn about things like that.

Herself, Lily was a good dueller, not the best but not bad. James, she admitted, was much better. She spent most of her time creating new potions and charms and studying rare texts, since Queens didn't work. It made her wonder what life would have been like if she hadn't become Queen.

She'd thought she was muggleborn for her entire life until eighteen, when she and James wanted to marry. She knew that he was the Prince and that this might be impossible so they set about trying to find some kind of loophole when . . . a miracle occurred. Or maybe not so.

She was a pureblood. Her parents were both pureblood squibs who wanted nothing to do with the magical world and had left it. That made her sister a pureblood squib and surprisingly, knowing she had magical blood but no magic had made Petunia more accepting of the magical world and mended the bridges. Lily's parents however . . . Lily now spoke to them rarely. It was hard to forgive.

His eyes were closed, those two emerald orbs that were identical to her own. His skin was pale from blood-loss and his cuts and bruises healed, the biggest still healing along with two crushed ribs, and his arm was setting. There were many potion vials sitting next to her and Lily had memorised the times they were to be taken.

She hadn't let go of his hand, not when they were moving him to the palace and into what was to be his bedroom; not when Claire, the royal Healer, was healing him. She'd left for the bathroom but for nothing else, hardly eating what was brought up.

It'd been three days. James had stayed for the first but business called and he was forced to leave, though he was always popping in to check on them both. Harry, Lily decided. It was time to call him Harry.

Her baby would wake up that evening. She would have to get used to thinking of him as a boy, not a baby. He was nineteen and no longer the fifteen-month-old child she'd last seen.

Chloe walked in. Her children had been excited though nervous at the prospect of meeting their older brother, Alex the most. This was the second time today Chloe had come to visit her and Harry.

There. She thought it.

"Hey mum," said Chloe, giving her a hug. "How is he?"

"His vitals are good," replied Lily, giving her daughter a small smile. "He'll be waking up this evening, according to Claire."

Chloe's eyes followed the collection of potions. "How many potions are there?"

Tears came to Lily eyes.

"Aw, mum, I didn't want to make you cry," groaned Chloe. "Sorry."

"No, dear, it's fine," said Lily, a chuckle lodged in her throat. "He's just ill, that's all. Like when your dad got back from the Manchester raid five years ago."

She'd never been so scared in her life when the guards brought James home in a stretcher, unconscious and hardly breathing. Not until now.

"Oh," understood Chloe. She was such a sweet girl, mused Lily.

"Chloe, have you seen my—oh! Mum!" Annalie spotted her mother by the bed. She stood by the door. "Hey. How's Harry?"

She'd said it aloud. Lily couldn't believe it, though the name sounded wonderful to her ears. And it wasn't too long until he woke up.

"He's okay," she whispered.

Annalie nodded. "Okay, well, I'll check back later. Chloe, give me a hand with something, please."

The two girls left, leaving Lily in peaceful silence. Annalie knew she wasn't in the mood for conversation; her eldest daughter always could read her well.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours. James came and went, Claire popped in, Alex said hello and one of the House Elves brought her lunch. Then she heard a moan.

Her eyes snapped to his face, where his lips were moving ever slightly as he murmured illegible things to himself during sleep. His eyes opened without warning and Lily noticed one difference between hers and his; his were darker in pain and what she guessed was grief. They switched from the ceiling to her. She didn't move. And then, moving automatically, his wand was out and he was crouched in a defensive position on the floor.

Unfortunately, she gave a small scream in shock and fear—not of him, but at him injuring himself. Sure enough, the slash on his chest had been ripped open once again.

Unfortunately, a guard happened to be passing the open door at that moment.

Unfortunately, he pressed a button on his belt that let the others know there was an attack on a member of the royal family.

And then . . . utter chaos.

He was a good dueller, she reflected, viewing the guards fight. Amazing, even. It made her feel proud as she watched from behind the guard in front of her. A cutting curse hit her baby and she felt rage hit her, pushing past the guard and ignoring his cry of, "your Highness!"

She dodged the spells coming from both ways until she was in front of Harry, shielding him. No one was going to hurt her baby. The guards immediately stopped firing.

Harry's wand pressed against her neck and he held her roughly with one hand. She gasped in shock.

Buttons were pressed by the guards. James walked past them to the front, his eyes wide in fear.

"Harry--" he began.

"What the fuck is going on?" His voice—Harry's voice—was low and angry, though with an undercurrent of pain.

"Harry, please, we know you're confused but we can explain," pleaded James. "Let her go."

"Let her go?" echoed Harry. He chuckled humourlessly. "Why would I let a Death Eater go?"

"A Death Eater? We're your--"

"Don't you dare," hissed Harry. James took a step forward. Harry's arm tightened around her, the wand digging into her neck. She fought a flinch.

"Your Majesty," said Gare.

"No," growled James. "Harry--"

"Majesty?" interrupted Harry, and Lily could almost see his eyebrow was raised. "What is this? Some kind of Death Eater thing? If you're the King, does that make you Malfoy or Lestrange or . . . _Snape_. Of course, _this_ must be Bella."

"You don't have a monarchy in your world?" asked James.

"The monarchy died out in 1800s; Hermione made me revise it for the OWLs." His grip tightened even more. "If you are Malfoy, your death will not be pleasant, I warn you now."

"Harry, when you slipped through the veil, you appeared in another world," explained James."I know you're scared but, tell me how you'll believe us and we'll do it."

The tense silence stretched for at least fifteen seconds, then . . . "Let me through."

"What?" asked James, before he understood and allowed Harry to do whatever it was. It took Lily a short time to work out what was going on and then she gasped. Legilimency.

After a few minutes, both drew back and Harry swore under his breath. James' eyes were filled with pain.

"Oh my god," she heard him murmur. "Shit, only me, only fucking me." She felt him move to let her go but one of the guards misinterpreted his action and fired a curse at him. Her baby collapsed. Lily screamed.

James ran towards them, one arm around Lily, the other cradling Harry's head.

Lily wouldn't let go of Harry's hand.

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**So . . . what did you think? I wasn't going to post this but I thought--why not? Anyway, please review and thanks for reading. If you've got a minute, check out What We Became, which is a Gossip Girl fic, on my profile . . . somewhere.**


	2. Meet The Parents

**Disclaimer: **Anything you know is not mine -- it's JKR's. Anything that's new, like the plot, is mine so please don't steal. Kudos to JKR for letting me play in her playground.

* * *

**Home**

"_You live your life with people who hate you, who are in awe of you and the few who actually love you . . . why is it that you never feel at home?"_

* * *

**Harry Potter Fan Fiction**

On the 5th of August, James and Lily Potter's prays are answered. Harry must now deal with living in a world very different from his own. HG, AU.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Meet The Parents**

James paced in front of the guards assigned to protect him and Lily, his robes fluttering angrily. They'd attacked Harry, his son, and now Lily was back in his bedroom holding the unconscious boy's hand. Thanks to a recruit assigned to protect them in the first place. Oh yes, James Potter was angry.

"How dare you," hissed James, not having the energy to shout quite yet. "How fucking dare you. You shot curses at my son, my wife was almost caught in the crossfire . . . you could have seriously hurt two members of the royal family you are assigned to protect—in fact, thanks to one of your team, the Prince is unconscious once again."

"YOU ARE NOT TO DO THIS EVER AGAIN!" he bellowed. "NEVER! From now on, you treat Harry as he should be treated; _as the heir to the throne! _He may not have been here for very long but Lily and I have waited almost eighteen years for this moment, and now that we have it you will not ruin it. You will do your jobs. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

"Yes sir!"

Trying to calm down, James continued. "A team will be assigned to Harry, just as there is one for the other children. Harry will need more protection because of Voldemort. As you know, the Harry of this world—and all of this information is under your oath—was killed by Voldemort when he was just a child. When Voldemort finds out Harry is alive, he will be in grave danger as well as the usual attacks. Therefore, you will keep an eye on him as well as his personal guard. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"The recruit that managed to hit Harry with a curse has been obliviated and dismissed. The same will happen to you if this happens again. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"Good."

It was the late evening and James was sat by Harry's bed, still glaring at the wall. He couldn't believe that not only had Harry woken up, confused and with people that—from his reaction—he was not on good terms with, he'd also been attacked. James was not only angry with the recruits but angry at he and Lily's counterparts. Tests done by Claire had shown Harry had suffered an abusive childhood.

He didn't notice the body on the bed turn over but he did see it sit up in the corner of his eye. His snapped to the scene and his eyes widened. Awake; finally.

"Harry," he said softly, "what are you doing? Lay back down."

Harry debated for a moment before he ignored the suggestion and continued to sit up, causing James to move forward. Waving away the help and simply pushing up the pillow, Harry said, "I'm fine. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," insisted James, "you're hurt. Your ribs haven't healed yet and the slash on your chest reopened a couple of hours ago."

Harry flushed. "About that. I'm sorry for how I reacted . . ."

"No, you shouldn't be," replied James. "I admit, I was scared for Lily, but had I been you, I would've done the same thing. Boy can you duel." He paused. "Can I ask you a question?"

Harry nodded. "Sure."

"How badly did we treat you, Lily and I?"

Harry looked shocked. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"When you woke up . . ." A look of pain came over James' face. "Well, you looked shocked to see us. Did we hurt you? It would kill us if we did. Were we good parents?"

"I . . ." Harry closed his eyes, noticeably fighting tears. "I wouldn't know."

"Wouldn't know . . ." echoed James before it hit him. Where Harry had died on the All Hallow's Eve, 1981 in their world, it must have been the opposite in Harry's world. "Oh. Right. I—I see now. I'm sorry. Was Sirius a good father in my stead?"

James knew that if there was no monarchy, Sirius would've been made Harry's guardian.

"Sirius Black?" said Lily from the door, her eyebrows raised. "A father figure?" She walked towards the bed, put the tray in her hands on the night-stand and took a seat. "Hello Harry." Lily looked like she was fighting tears. "I'm so sorry we weren't there for you, but don't worry, all of that's going to change. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," answered Harry, his eyes drinking her in hungrily.

She smiled. "Do me a favour, Harry." He nodded. "Tell your father his best friend could not have raised a child—except you, dear; he raised you wonderfully. You're an amazing dueller."

"I'm sorry about earlier," Harry said nervously. "It's just . . . it's something that Death Eaters would do, would get sick enjoyment from."

A tear fell from her eye and she wiped away without a sound and she held his hand tightly. "It's okay, really, it is, sweetie."

He blushed at the endearment before his mood changed. "About Sirius. He didn't raise me."

"Who did then?" asked James, looking puzzled. "Remus?"

"Um, no," answered Harry. "It was the Dursleys."

"Dursley . . ." muttered James. "Oh wait, Lily, wasn't that infernal ex-husband of your sister's called Dursley?"

"Oh yes, Vernon Dursley," realised Lily. "Why did you say Dursleys plural. Petunia didn't stay with that horrible man, did she?"

"Er, as far as I know, they're happily married and have a whale of son called Dudley." Harry paused, confused. "Is that different here?"

Lily nodded. "Petunia divorced Vernon when Dudley was four, since he couldn't handle the fact she wanted to be associated with magic. We both found out our parents were actually pureblood squibs who wanted nothing to do with magic when I was eighteen."

Harry stared at her incredulously The minutes passed.

"Harry?" asked a worried James.

"What? Oh, sorry but things are definitely different where I come from. Aunt Petunia has no idea she's a squib and her family like things _normal_—you know, like they _hate_ magic . . ." Harry trailed off, realising what he'd said and looking self-conscious.

James was fuming. How dare they hurt him just because he was a wizard, especially—and James had a feeling this was true—if he didn't know what magic was. Harry was a powerful wizard so there must have been accidental magic . . . "Did they hurt you?" Harry was so shy, so timid, looking like he'd been forced to deal with injuries before. It made James furious.

Harry was looking everywhere but them. "It's a chapter in my life that's forever closed; I don't want to talk about it. So, what's the monarchy here like?" he asked, changing the subject instantly.

James wasn't happy with that answer but let the subject drop. He glanced at Lily and their eyes met. She was as furious with her sister's family's counterparts as he was.

"Have some of the soup first," she insisted, giving him the tray. Harry looked surprised but dutifully started on the meal.

"Well, you're born into it," explained James, "and there aren't so many titles like the Muggle monarchy. There's the King and Queen, whom are myself and Lily; the Princes and Princess, your siblings and right now, you; the Crowned Prince, who you'll soon be; the Dukes and Duchesses, who are siblings to the King or former King, like my Uncle Archer who, off topic, is really bad with a bow and arrow, and the Lords and Ladies, who are the children of the Duke and Duchesses, like my nephew Bartholomew. Awful, awful name for poor Bart. What was my uncle thinking."

Lily laughed at Harry's expression. "Don't worry, it's gets easier with time. The only thing left to add is the fact that the King is always succeeded when his oldest son reaches the age of twenty-nine."

James mock-glared at her. "Give me a chance, Lils, I was getting to that! Anyway, what ideas do you have for when you become King?"

Harry choked and coughed violently for a second until he regained his composure, his parents frantically trying to calm him down. "Sorry, but um . . . what?!"

"You're the oldest son, the throne is rightfully--"

"No way," declared Harry, scowling. "Me? King? No way in hell. Let one of the others have the crown, I don't want it."

Lily shook her head. "It doesn't work like that, Harry, honey. You'll be crowned a week after your twenty-first birthday and eight years later, you take over from your father as King."

"I really don't want it," said Harry firmly.

"Harry, honey, I'm sorry but you don't have a choice. You're the next King," said Lily.

Harry frowned and didn't say anything more but James knew he hadn't given up on the subject.

There was a knock on a door. "Mum?"

"In her, sweetie."

His youngest daughter, only twelve, walked in and gave her mother a letter. She was a good mixture of both of her parents, though with Lily's red-auburn hair and James' hazel eyes; like the twins who also had a mixture of features, James' eyes but also the unruly hair.

"Chloe, this is your brother, Harry," she said, gesturing respectively, "Harry, this is your sister, Chloe Isabelle."

"Mum!" whined Chloe. "Not the full name!"

Lily chuckled and smoothed her hair.

"We'll give you two some time alone," said James, smiling at them. He squeezed Harry's hand and Lily gave them both hugs before they left, shutting the door quietly. They heard their chatty daughter--_"wonder where she gets that from, James?"_--immediately start talking.

James took Lily's hand as they walked, his mind whirring with different thoughts. One came to the forefront of his mind: what would life be like if he wasn't royal?

He couldn't get his head around it; he couldn't imagine life without having lived in the palace, without the fame and fortune, the responsibility. Things must've been so much simpler in Harry's dimension for him—he'd go to Hogwarts as a nobody, perhaps knowing a few people already; he'd meet the girl of his dreams, chase her around as always until she gave in; he'd save up to buy a big house, become an Auror, start a family . . . Yes, life would've been a lot simpler.

Instead, he was the only son of King Charles the sixth and Queen Dorea, a lady from a prominent family. It was never hidden from him that he would be crowned a week after his twenty-first birthday and that at twenty-nine, the entirety of Britain would look to him for answers. His entire life, he'd trained in magic and combat to prove he was worthy of being King.

But as a Prince . . . well . . . who wouldn't get a _slightly_ inflated head? Lily was the one thing he couldn't have, and though she never insulted him in public and was polite when she said _"no"_ for the four-hundredth time—he was sure that that was different in Harry's dimension—it was obvious that he wasn't mature enough for her because he liked to have fun.

At the end of sixth year he sat her down, after much conniving, and explained. Hogwarts was the one place in the world where he could be a child—in the palace, he was a Prince, to the rest of the world, he was a Prince, but to his teachers and his friends, he was James Potter, a student. He could let go here, he could play jokes and miss lessons and get detentions and everyone would just say "well, the Prince _is_ just a teenager" and let it go.

Lily understood and by seeing another side to James, she agreed to spend some time with him. Eventually, things progressed until they got married and had four children.

James wouldn't change it for the world.

But thinking of the other dimension made him think about Harry and his life. Growing up without parents and no godfather, even—for Sirius would definitely have looked after Harry if his parents were dead—and with Petunia and her awful husband . . . he couldn't imagine it. And James had a feeling that things only got worse.

The look in Harry's eyes . . . no child should ever have that look in their eyes. It made him wonder if Harry had ever had the chance to be a child.

Lily led them into the private lounge, where Alex and Annalie were playing _Merlin_, a popular wizarding board game-illusion that had been around for maybe twenty years. The idea was to play Merlin's apprentice and face foes, answer riddles, cast spells and concoct potions on the life-size board. It was all an illusion.

"Take that, you chopped chimera!" screamed Alex, pointing the fake wand—it was all in the game—at the smoking beast. "Conseco! Conseco! Conseco!"

No real spells were used in the game so that children didn't learn them and use them in real life.

James paused the game causing Alex to start whining. "Da—_ad_! I just killed the chimera, I don't have long to go until I reach the dragon—Toby said it's _so_ cool."

"Oh, quit it, Alex," said his sister, Annalie, scowling at both him and James. "But you can ask first, dad."

Holding up his hands in defeat, he fell ungracefully onto the couch. "Ah . . . that's nice. So much better than the chair in Harry's room." He paused. "That room needs better chairs—we'll buy some."

Lily and Annalie both rolled their eyes at the same time, making James frown. "Lily, you're ruining my baby girl. Thank god she still likes Quidditch."

"Dad," started Alex, "you know who's got tickets to League final Saturday--"

"No," said Lily, interrupting him. "I said you can't go and you can't." She glared at James. "Can he, James?"

James, meanwhile, was lost in thoughts of his favourite team, the Appleby Arrows, who were in the final, beating the other team, the Holyhead Harpies, Annalie's favourite team—probably because she was a girl.

"Huh?"

"I can go, right, dad?" asked Alex, looking like he'd beg.

James didn't even hesitate. "'Course you can, Alex, why couldn't you?" He looked at Lily and realised that it was the wrong thing to say. " . . . Unless your mum's already said you can't go, that is."

"Da—_ad_!"

"Well, Lils, it is the League final and missing it would be an unjust punishment for whatever he did," commented James, giving her puppy-dog eyes. "Especially since I'm going . . ."

"Oh, you're going, are you?" asked Lily sharply.

James nodded, knowing that she was going to blow up at him either way.

"What about Bart's birthday ball that evening," James swore under his breath, "the one you promised to be at no matter what?"

"Mum, that's in the evening," said Annalie. "Please can we go?"

"No," said Lily angrily, "and Annalie, when did you switch sides?"

"The Harpies are playing, mum, and I swear we'll be back by five."

"No."

"But--" Three voices said at once.

"No and that's final!" declared Lily, making James sigh in disappointment. He'd get the permission out of her later.

A House Elf dressed in a royal outfit—though not free—popped into the room and bowed so his head almost touched the ground. "Princess Annalie, you have a letter." He held it out to her on a silver platter.

"Thanks, Wispy," she replied, picking it up. James watched her tear it open, having a feeling he knew who it was. Wispy popped out.

"Mum, dad, can I go to Magnus Alley tomorrow? Jake asked me to meet him there for lunch."

"No," decided James. There was no way in hell she was meeting that—that _boy_ again. There was something about him James didn't like; he was evil, brave but evil.

"Now, James, don't be like this," said Lily, rolling her eyes.

James glared at her. He hated Annalie dating and he and Lily argued over it quite a bit--"_sixteen is a good age to date, James; you know, in a year she'll be of age!"_ He, however, thought she shouldn't date until she was . . . well . . . he thought she just shouldn't date. Sixteen-year-old boys only wanted one thing from girls, he should know, he had lived with Sirius.

"Yeah, please dad," begged Annalie. "Jake's so nice and such a gentleman, he's perfect."

"No," said James, his mind unchanged. "I still think you're too young to date, and while I can't have my eye on you too much in Hogwarts, I can while you're here."

"But--"

"Read my lips, Annalie: _no_."

"James, he isn't so bad. You should give him a chance," whispered Lily, as Annalie sulked and stalked out of the room. Alex only rolled his eyes and unpaused _Merlin_, picking up his fake wand and stalking past the dead chimera.

"He's got guts, I'll give him that," allowed James. It was true, the boy was brave for dating a Princess wasn't easy. It came with press, guards and the power-to-make-life-hell vested in the father.

"Yes," agreed Lily. "There's more than that though, James, honey. He got almost all Es with an exception in Arithmancy and Transfiguration, where he got Os; I know you know, you checked. He wants to work at the Ministry in a good position when he leaves school and most importantly, he really cares about Annalie."

"But he's the only _boyfriend_," the word made him scowl, "that has ever wanted to make their relationship public. Granted, the press always found out, but Annalie likes keeping her private life just that—private." James paused, glaring into space and wanting to pummel the idiot. "He's pushed her into it, anyone can see that."

Lily sighed. "I can see that you aren't going to change your mind, so how about a compromise."

"Lily, I'm not compromising!"

"Oh, shut up and listen, James." He stared at her—she was never like this unless she was frustrated, and a frustrated Lily was never good. "In a few days, we need to have a press conference to announce Harry's return, before Dumbledore makes something up. Then he'll need to make a public appearance, maybe in Diagon Alley. We can tell Annalie she can meet Jacob there and they can spend a couple of hours together. How's that?"

James didn't like it too much but it wasn't a bad idea. Lily had, of course, always been a bright witch ever since he'd met her. He told so.

"And don't you forget it!" she replied, laughing.

They sat together for a while, James' arm around Lily's waist, her head on his chest. He loved moments like this, short moments where they didn't need to say anything because nothing needed to be said. He knew Lily almost as well as he knew himself and he loved her much more—he was only a little conceited.

As corny as it sounded, she completed him. Sometime after they'd become engaged he'd told her so and her response had been—_"James, that has got to be the cheesiest thing I have ever heard, but you're trying to be romantic and I love you for it."_ He loved her for having the courage to say that to him, loved her for the fact he didn't have to be romantic but she'd always appreciate the effort, no matter if it failed.

"Hey, mum, dad," said Chloe, bouncing into the room.

"Hello, Chloe," said Lily, snuggling into James' chest. "How's Harry?"

James looked up eagerly, wanting to know how Harry would react around his younger sister, someone completely different from the parents he'd always wished for.

"Oh, he's fine," answered Chloe, turning to her brother. "You know, Eva said that her sister plays _Merlin_ and when fighting the Invaders, you should use half of the Base Elixir."

"I can handle this," said Alex, dodging another attack. "I can," he insisted.

"Okay," said Chloe, shrugging. The three of them watched as Alex was almost hit by a curse that would drop him a few levels.

"Shit," he swore.

Lily almost exploded and James chuckled at rant his son was going to have to endure.

"Sorry, mum," Alex said quickly. "Yell at me later." He uncorked a a vial and threw a bit of it at the Invaders. They began to dissolve. "Hell, yeah! I got you! You think you can defeat me? Not bloody likely! Oh, yeah!"

James grimaced, though gave a smile at Alex's face when he revolved to look at Lily. This was not going to be pretty.

"Alexander Charles Potter! What have you been learning at school, young man? I am appalled at your language! How dare you mention those rude words in this house . . . _palace_! How dare you . . ."

It went on. James tuned her out, having heard the same rant many times before. Lily didn't like swearing but in a sticky situation—like a duel, for instance—she could swear like an Auror and turned into a total hypocrite. In everyday life, however . . .

". . . and if I hear any more of that foul language again, I will ground you from that game for a month! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, mum," mumbled Alex.

"Good," finished Lily, once again resting her head against James.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Alex?" asked Chloe. The boy in question raised an eyebrow. "Thanks for idea, maybe?" she huffed.

"Oh, thanks." He got back to his game, quickly.

"So, Chloe," began James, not wanting to wait any more. "What did you and Harry talk about?"

"Lots of things," she said, "but mainly what this world is like and what it's like being a member of the royal family and stuff. He got kind of sad and—how to put this—_wistful_ when I finished explaining so I asked him and he said the war was much easier here, his war was really hard and lots of people died.

"He asked me about Hogwarts so I told him all about the classes and the professors since he knows the castle better than the map you and the others made back at school, dad. I told him about my friends. He looked really sad at that and it took some time but he finally told me that many of his school friends were dead, including his two closest friends."

"Merlin, that's awful," whispered Lily, her eyes filled with unushed tears. James felt the exact same way—he couldn't imagine losing both Sirius and Remus, especially after Pettigrew's betrayal.

"Was there anything light about the conversation?" asked Alex, looking grim and having paused the game. "The war sounds awful but . . ."

Chloe nodded. "He mentioned something about helping someone start a joke shop, meeting his friends and the fact they became like family and—um—there was a girl."

James perked up at this. "A girl? I knew he'd have my genes!"

"James!"

"Yes, Lily, love," he said, his voice teasing.

"You will not turn our son into a version of you at Hogwarts!"

"Yes, dear," said James, looking disappointed. "That is, of course, only if he wasn't a ladies man already. What if he is, Lils?"

"He won't," she decided, mock-glaring at him. "And if he does, I'll find someone to reign him in." Her voice was playful and James leaned in to give her a kiss--

"Ew! Dad! We're still here, you know!"

James scowled. "Well, make yourselves scarce, why don't you."

The two disgruntled children, one a teen and the other not quite yet, walked out unhappily, muttering about parents and their awful habits. James ignored him and pressed his lips against Lily's.

It was half an hour later that they stopped and simply cuddled together on the couch. James threaded his fingers through Lily's hair and pulled her closer. He loved the feel of her close to him.

"We should do this more often," he murmured. "What with duties and the kids, we never spend time together."

"You exaggerate, James, but this was fun," she replied, chuckling. She pulled herself off the couch, yawning slightly. "I'm going to go and check on H—Harry." Her voice caught on his name. "Harry," she repeated. A smile blossomed on her face.

James smiled at her smile. It was the first time in weeks she'd smiled properly, not even the ball his Aunt Anastasia had enlisted her help in would rise her spirits. The constant war effort had been getting to her.

With Harry here now, she had a new passion in life—being a mother to someone who, James guessed, wouldn't mind being mothered for a while. But enough was enough, he needed some space; the boy was nineteen, older than his real age by miles, and needed some time to get used to this very strange, very different world.

"Lily, honey, let's leave him for a while," he murmured, not looking at her.

"James . . ."

He brought his eyes up to meet to hers. "He needs some time, sweetheart. He's in a world so similar and yet so foreign, he needs to adjust. We've helped but now . . . I don't we would be."

"But I want to see him," she demanded. Lily scowled, obviously frustrated. "I haven't seen him for eighteen years, James, and you are not going to keep him from me now. I'm his mother—he needs me."

"He hasn't had you for eighteen years, Lily. He needs to deal with it in his own way, and we aren't part of it." He smiled sadly at her. "I know you, I know you want to go back there and cuddle him close and believe me, I want the same thing but that's just it—we want that. Does Harry?"

"I—" A couple of tears ran down her cheeks and James drew her to him, hugging her tightly. It was hard, letting go like that, but they had to realise that, as parents, Harry came first. And Harry needed some time alone right now.

"Let's go and see Remus and Grace; they mentioned something about dinner tonight, didn't they?" James slowly coaxed her towards the door.

"'Said it was for 'Millie," she sniffled. "Something 'bout Sirius dating for more than two months, I think. Q—quite an achievement. A—a—a mi . . . miracle."

James led Lily out of the lounge and into the second floor, private floo parlour, which was secured for only those travelling _from_ the castle. He dropped some floo powder into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames, which tickled as usual. It took him many years to learn the technique of floo travelling gracefully.

The room they landed in, fairly upright, was small and homey. It was a mixed kitchen and dining room, with a oak table and rustic kitchen appliances. The lighting was low and made the room seem slightly orange.

"Remus?" he called out. "Grace?"

His best friend's wife walked into the room, in her usual, frilly summer dress. From a small village in the countryside, and not the richest family, she'd gotten used to wearing old summer dresses all year round. It suited her.

"James," she greeted, beaming. She was always smiling. "Lily, dear." Seeing her close was half-crying, she pulled her into a hug.

James couldn't help noticing the contrast. Auburn-haired, bright green eyes, paler complexion and mostly regal features, her face was very different to Grace's tanned skin—from years working outside—and honey-blonde hair. Grace looked more motherly, though she'd never actually had children. She'd been caught by Death Eaters at sixteen and while she'd survived the torture, it had made her infertile.

James knew Remus had always been so very guilty at being thankful. His best friend was always terrified at hurting children, and had used many excuses when the twins were toddlers. Luckily, he was around more when Chloe was born and was therefore her godfather, with Emmeline Vance, a good schoolmate of Lily's, as her godmother.

"How are you two?" she asked softly, still embracing Lily. "What's happened? Is . . . is everyone okay? Are the kids all right? Have you seen Sirius in the last few hours? Where's Remus? It's already been forty minutes—"

"Grace," soothed James, watching her get worked up. "Everything's fine. Everything's wonderful, in fact. I'd try my hand at singing if I didn't know how much you loved your glass vases."

Lily snorted, then pulled her head away from Grace's shoulder, looking more relaxed. "It's true, you know. About everything. You see, Gracie, we've had such a wonderful surprise—it hasn't been all free flying quite yet but we're getting closer to the cup."

James smiled—she was always picking up his Quidditch analogies.

Grace sat them down at the table and waved her wand, bringing some hot tea, kept warm on the stove, and a tin of chocolate biscuits, which James immediately tried to snatch. Her cookies were divine.

She smiled, rolling her eyes. "Well then, you two, I'm not going to wait for the two dunderheads when there's big news—you can share it again with them. James, don't take another biscuit or you won't fit in your trousers any longer. Lily, darling, spill."

* * *

**Hey guys! I'm so sorry that this is, god, who knows how late. I haven't been writing in a long time. Year 10 is much harder than I thought it would be and I haven't really been concentrating on anything fanfiction-related besides reading it. So, you might want to put this story on alert since I never know when I'll update. If you're reading this, awesome. I'm super sorry about the wait.**


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